The Diary of Destiny
by OperationWangChung
Summary: (Set during IMOM) Destiny, a not so bright blonde college student with aspirations of becoming a showgirl, becomes "head assistant" (a.k.a coffee girl) at Dr. Evil's Nevada lair. Unfortunately, she finds herself having some serious sexual tension with "Scotty Don't", the boss's son. With her job and her romantic life, how could she possibly attend a class?
1. Chapter 1

January 8, 1997

11:58 pm

Dear Diary,

In theorem, college is a bit old to start a diary, but who gives a shit? My own life is important enough to chart. I think I'm destined for greatness. After all, my name is Destiny.

I mean, I'm a freshman at University of Nevada and there's a fifty-fifty chance that I'll get to be a dancer at the Bellagio. I mean, I'm a blonde after all. And okay, I might be slightly too short at five foot one, but I've got the body for it. The only thing left is for me to meet a man with real aspirations. After all, I'm going places. I might be a headliner after college.

Maybe I could start dating a Backstreet Boy, but I'm not famous enough yet. And I've been to all the frat parties both semesters, and it's like no one is worthy of me. I want to meet the kind of guy who can do something for me. Like buy me expensive jewelry and pay for my stuff and get me out of school.

My mother said that the only reason a girl like me should go to college is for her MRS. But all the rich guys are, like, at the big fancy schools like UCLA that I couldn't get into. It's so not fair. I mean, I'm like gorgeous. Where have all the good guys gone?

I mean, there's some pretty rich guys at the casinos, but they, like, have wives. I am nobody's mistress. Well, not since the last time, when the guy's wife nearly broke my nose. But it was only once or twice.

Like, I don't know. Life is so annoying. I mean, my gal pal Candi has a rich boyfriend and she's a heifer. Like, a size 8. Ugh. When will I meet my special someone?

January 9, 1997

12:33 pm

Dear Diary,

I didn't get the job. I can't believe it! It's like my whole life is over. All I have are my stupid classes now.

I overheard the casting guys talking, and I know what the problem is. My breasts. I knew B cups weren't big enough! God, I need a boob job, but I don't have the money. And now, I can't get the money unless I take that hostess job at PJ Gilligan's. But I can't. I still have shame. I think.

I miss high school. In high school, I was the shit. Now, my life is shit. I was the most beautiful girl in Minnesota, the winner of the All-American Teen Pageant in '94, '95, and '96.

But here, that doesn't matter. I'm in a jungle of Amazonian beauties and extra enhanced girls. It's like being a Seventeen cover girl in a world of full-blown supermodels. The only guys who notice are college chumps with no money. I never should have left Weiland.

I really thought I could be a showgirl, like in "Copacabana". But I was so wrong. I'm nothing in Vegas. Nothing but a blonde, flat chested smurf.

January 11, 1997

12:55 am

Dear Diary,

Why is it impossible to stand school? I thought I could at least meet a husband in college, but since that has been a bust, it's like I have no reason to be here. I only have one male professor, and he's not even cute!

I guess I should drop out and move back home. There isn't anything for me here. I could start up on the pageant circuit again. I went out tonight, and no one important even noticed me.

I mean, sure, I hooked up with this one guy who was kind of cute, and I even gave him a blowjob, but he was, like, maybe three inches taller than me, and I don't think he was rich. I haven't seen him at UNevada, but who knows? Maybe he's in one of my classes. Not that I'm into him. I mean, like I said, he's fairly cute. Like a little leprechaun.

And then I hooked up with Candi's boyfriend, but since he won't break up with her, I'm still high and dry. It sucks raw ass.


	2. Chapter 2

p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"1/13/97 11:26 am/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Dear Diary,/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I got a job! And okay, it's pretty shitty, but at least it's not PJ Gilligan's. There was a new professor in one of my classes today. His name was Dr. Evil. I wonder if that's Chinese./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"He has like, an office underground that I'm supposed sort out mail and make coffee at. Like an office assistant. So that could be cool./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I could end up pouring coffee for a super rich guy or something. But not Dr. Evil. He's pretty ugly, and a girl has to have standards. I think he might be rich, though...nope, can't go through with it. I'm a golddigger, not a whore./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"My first day is tomorrow. I wasn't told to dress professionally or anything, so at least I won't have to buy new clothes. Although now I feel like shopping. I might as well go out anyway. Tomorrow, I'll definitely meet a great, phenomenally rich and hunky guy at work. I should look my hottest./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"1/14/97 12:03 am/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Dear Diary,/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I think I screwed up majorly, once again. So I went to the mall after my last class this afternoon. Everything was fine at first. I hit up Contempo, Express, and Wet Seal for new outfits, and then I went shopping for accessories at Afterthoughts. All sounds good so far, right?/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"So, finally, I decide to hit up Structure for some men's jeans, so I bag and cinch them at the same time. So, you know, I wouldn't have to buy the real expensive denim cargos at The Gap, or pick up a pair of JNCOs that would show my panties in the least sexy way possible. So I go into Structure, and it turns out the guy from last night is there too. Scotch or whatever his name is. Then again, maybe that was just what I was drinking in the club./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I can't feel bad about it, cause he didn't remember my name either. We've spent the day calling each other "you." Yeah, that's right. The day. As in, here I am in his room right now. It smells like gym socks and Old Spice in here./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"But it's not like I can just leave. I mean, now I feel like I have to stay. He bought me dinner at Panda Express (where we ate and stared at each other awkwardly). And then he took me to his apartment in the Valley (blindfolded until we got to his room - kinky, right?) and actually gave me a backrub./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I mean, I can't just leave a guy who did all that, even if it's possible he invited me there because he still had my panties from Friday night and he wanted to give them back. But that's absolutely it. I will not hook up with this guy ever again. No matter how bad it feels to end it. I mean, it will definitely be weird. I mean, even though he doesn't remember my name, I think he has real feelings for me. I mean, before I started writing, he was spooning me. So that's it. I'm rolling back into his arms and going asleep. Then I'll wake up in six or seven hours and sneak out before he notices. That's all there is to it./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"1/14/97 6:08 pm/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Dear Diary,/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Well, I found out why Scott (club guy who is apparently my BOYFRIEND now) blindfolded me the whole way to his apartment's bedroom. Because it's no apartment. It's his dad's place! Yeah, that's right! He lives with his parents. That's almost as bad as being one of those a Capella losers, for God's sake! But wait, this gets even better! Guess who his dad is? That's right, my current boss, Dr. Evil./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"That's right. I fucked the boss's son on my first day. That's gotta be a strike against my record! And it totally ruined my chances of having an in and getting promoted. This one lesbian lady, Frau Fraustein or whatever, was totally checking me out, until she heard Scott and I hooked up. One French kiss and I wouldn't be coffee girl anymore. But nooooo./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"How did this disaster of epic proportions occur, you might ask. Well, I really overslept last night. I woke up at noon. Noon! I missed all my classes except for the one special spelling class at four and Remedial Math at seven, but it's not like I was planning on going to those anyway./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"So I get out of Scott's bed and walk out of his room (which, by the way, was really gross and messy and I slipped on an open Playboy spread of Jenny McCarthy, and would have broken my neck if it hadn't been for a pile of dirty clothes), and go into the hallway. And that's when I realize where I am./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Dr. Evil literally gave me a tour yesterday morning when I got recruited. I remember because he grabbed my ass "by accident" and I decided to ignore it so I could still get a job somewhere beside PJ Gilligan's. So I run back into Scott's room, and throw on my clothes from yesterday (because I couldn't go get coffee in just a raggedy bathrobe and my Vicky's Secrets; I might burn myself)./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Then I finally started leaving, when Dr. Evil came down the hallway. "Destiny," he snapped. "You're very late. Like, by four hours. And why are you wearing the same thing you wore yesterday? You didn't think I'd remember? That's just gross! And no one has been here to get any kind of coffee, cause God knows, no one else can work the machine, and..."/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"He trailed off as he looked at something behind me. I turned around and saw Scott walking out his room in that raggedy robe, which he had left hanging wide open, and just his shorts. "What time is it," he grumbled to himself./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Scotty," Dr. Evil snapped. "It would be nice if you could not greet everyone with the sight of your balls this afternoon."/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"He looked down and Evil snickered. "Made ya look. But really, put some clothes on. No one wants to see that."/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Scott smirked. "I don't know. She seemed to like the view last night," he said, gesturing at me./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"My stomach dropped to my feet. Not only did I sleep with the guy who broke into the lair, I thought. But now my professor knows. What if I get kicked out of school for this? And then I'll really have to work at PJ Gilligan's./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Evil raised his eyebrows and stared at me in shock. "You saw fit to have an adult slumber party last night with my son?"/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I nearly dry heaved. "What?"/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""You work for him?" Scott gasped./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Oh, boy, did I cause a rift in this relationship," Evil asked, snickering./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Damn it," I moaned./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Oh, don't worry, Destiny. It is fine with me if my boy has a little girlfriend."/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Wait," I started. "I am not-"/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Of course she's my girlfriend, Dad," Scott yelled over me. He wrapped an arm around me shoulder and grinned. "Isn't she great?"/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Evil looked me up and down. "She looks cheap," he commented./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I gritted my teeth. I thought I was in so much trouble. "Very well," Evil finally said. "Get to work, Destiny."/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"And that was it. I got the mail and made coffee, including a cup for Scott (I spit in it), and then at 5:30, I was dismissed for lunch later. I went back to Scott's room to grab some of my stuff, hitched a ride back to campus from the lair's remote location, and went back to my dorm room. Instead of grabbing a bite to eat, I showered and changed into a huge blue Oriental floral print blouse left half-buttoned, a matching micro mini with black shorts underneath, and gold lace up heels. I think that outfit will help me gain back some of my dignity. I have to get back to work soon, so I might as well get moving. I should probably grab a bag of chips or something for the road./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"1/14/97 8:36 PM/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Dear Diary,/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I'm taking this bit of free time that I have to give a full report on the rest of my day so far. I got back to hear Number 2 and Evil discussing whether or not Destiny was a stripper name (Evil was leaning towards hooker) behind my back. That was fun./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Then when I went brought back some Snapple, someone (Frau Farberini, I think) grabbed my ass. Everyone had a great laugh about that./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Then I went into the printing station to make copies of some memo, and guess who was there waiting me? Scott, of course. He asked if I could pretend to be his girlfriend until Evil would want him to propose in a few years. He suggested I cheat on him at that point. I told him no. Then he asked if I would really go out with him. I said maybe. I probably would, especially since I know he's rich now, but I didn't want to sound desperate. And also, I wasn't sure if he was in love with me or not. If he only wanted to go out with me because I put out yesterday, it wouldn't be real. I'd hope he liked me for a real reason, like how pretty I am./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"So then I made the copies, got my ass grabbed again, and now I'm sitting in my designated seat, far, far away from the conference table, and writing here. I bet they don't want me to spill their toy making secrets. After all, Dr. Evil has an underground lair in the valley because his whole team is designing really exclusive, top secret Beanie Babies. At least, that's what he told me on the tour yesterday. I hope this means I get one of the special Beanies for free. Not so I can sell it or anything. Just because those toys are sooooo cute./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Anyway, apparently, I have to have dinner here, but no way am I eating. One of the main rules of getting a guy is not to eat in front of him unless he pays for it, and Scott isn't the one paying. So therefore, I am just going to wait until everyone else eats, and then hide in the bathroom and eat. Even though Evil ordered Domino's, which is my favorite kind of pizza. I can wait. I can wait until midnight if it takes that long for me to be able to sneak away./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"1/14/97 9:23 PM/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Dear Diary,/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Well, that plan didn't pan out well. It started out fine. The pizza came, everybody was grabbing a slice or two, and I stayed in my chair and tuned the mini TV in the corner to Beavis and Butthead. But then Scott came over. At first it was cool, since we both like BB an we even laughed at the same jokes. But then he had bring up food. Idiot./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""I'm not that hungry," I lied. At first, he shrugged and turned back to the TV. But then my stomach made this low, awkward rumbling noise. And it wasn't even something I could just brush off. It was loud enough to make a few other people turn around. So of course, Scott starts smirking at me. I mean, why couldn't he have ignored it?/span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""You wanna a slice," he asked. I blushed and nodded. Mere moments later, I was contemplating if there was possibly any way I could still look sexy while eating a slice of oily pepperoni pizza. I considered dabbing down the slice with a napkin - nah, the paper just glues to. cheese. Maybe I could have lifted it into my mouth gently, and then bit off the tip. I tried staring at it from another angle. Nope. I could think of no possible way to feminize eating a slice of cheesy, greasy pizza./span/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"So I gave up and ate it. Thankfully, there was no garlic or anything other than the pepperoni mixed in, so at least I won't feel fat and get bad breath out of the whole deal. So I hit rock bottom: I went for two more slices. Somebody else grabbed my ass on the way over there, but I could care less. I was just too humiliated. I can't believe Scott knows how much I can eat now! It's so embarrassing. Then again, it was a Catch-22. Look like a fat pig or a high maintenance anorexic. There was no way I could have won. It is so hard to try to get an MRS. I should get more credit than those snooty feminists give me./span/p 


End file.
